Your simplicity is complicated, and is complicatingmy thoughts, tangling them like a websmashed through by a child's hand. I'm hallucinatinghope these days, which I never did before, because they hitthe floor hard who climb too high - they crash, and feel life ebbout with love and blood. You seem to make so much sensethat you don't make sense at all - and - (I feel a bitlight-headed) - and -

The darkness fills my eyes; a sticky tar coveringcovers them up and keeps the oxygen from my head. I seenothing but nothing and you, and I feel your presence smotheringmy sense so I can't make sense. You don't make sense - thoughyou do, because all you are is yes and no and simplicityand that and this - and this is how my thoughts gowhen I'm with you - and - and -

This is what you do to my head.

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